


Dancing in Worlds Unseen

by madwanderer



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Multi, circus AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:06:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwanderer/pseuds/madwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>| Many pairings listed above may require a few chapters to delve into. Main characters revolve around Jefferson/Alice. |<br/>A world shaken by magic has declared its ban; which makes it so odd that they allow the magic-users to play in plain view. Following the lives of magicians hiding in plain sight; demonstrating their abilities and subtle mockeries under the guise of a circus-- a circus, that seems to hold more than the glimmer of simple magic tricks and wolfish women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing in Worlds Unseen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madlittlegrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlittlegrace/gifts).



She loved the circus.

There were many things in this world she would claim she loved, but the circus held a special notch within her.

Flowers, droning bees, the song of birds in the early morning, a shimmering strand of pearls that sat upon her dresser and laughed so eagerly at her jokes, her father’s endless library of books and the way her mother smiled when she was, though rarely, completely satisfied with the way the day was going.

But the circus? That spur of magic—the vibrant, effervescent costumes adorning the bejewelled circus folk, the tint of whimsy and magic to the air, the elaborate decorations and whirlwinds of color that made her simply breathless in her excitement and wonder.

It was a fantasy come to life; ruby-red lips grinning and gold-painted eyes winking at her from behind intricate venetian masks, her arm wound about her mother’s as she stood inside the tent--- gasping in sheer awe at the size of its interior, compare to how small it was on the outside.

Coming in, it looked no bigger than a large house—but from the inside, it may be just as large as the first floor of her manner, filled with people of varying classes and demeanor milling about and finding their seats around the large, centralized stage. Others there resembled Alice—dressed in fine silks and gowns, holding silvery sticks with monocles attached to better see the circus from the higher seats, and some were dressed barely better than beggars, and she wondered if they had spent their life’s savings to get into this circus.

It _was_ the most famous of all circuses, after all. She couldn’t blame them—if she had been in their position, she would have done the same.

She stared as a small child passed her by, the little girl in a green dress that just surpassed her knees and white-lace sneakers, a flimsy lion’s mask covering her face. She growled in between fits of giggles as she gripped her father’s hand and arm, swinging off of it as he walked, pointing out many things as she went by.

“ _Alice_ ,” she heard her mother’s voice, and realised she had been tugging her mother’s hand in the direction of the girl as she felt her arm pulled rather sharply back, her shoulder just barely missing collision with her mother’s, “ _Focus._ Don’t pull mother.” Alice nodded, her head moving in quick movements, knowing better than to anger her mother, not during such occasions. Their seats were more to the middle—not exactly the highest, in fact, they were three rows down from the top, but the amount of people crowding around the stage grew scarcer the higher up you went. She seated herself on a wooden bench fitted with plush, burgundy cushions that seemed melded into the wood, her view of the stage clear from where she sat. She was glad for this, as the last time she had sat down for a show a ridiculously tall man sat in front of her, and she could barely see anything but the lights above the stage, for she had to crane her neck so much! Her mother removed Alice’s arm from her grasp when they sat, tucking a strand of pale-gold hair behind the girl’s ear.

“You’ve been good today.” She spoke low; though Alice couldn’t fathom why, what with the noises the throngs of people were making. Alice nodded—a short smile on her face, earning a half-smile from her mother. “Keep this up, and perhaps I’ll allow you to frequent the library back home again.”

Alice beamed; teeth flashing between carnation pink lips that bore the same softness and now her mother nodded; turning from Alice to gaze back down at the stage again, interrupted only by a few short words both to and from the girl’s father.

Her mother was a stern looking woman; with a curved nose which resembled that of a toucan’s minus the beautiful coloring. Her eyes were sunk into a thin face with protruding cheekbones that could very well cut glass; thin lips nearly the color of a prune and fake rouge plastered to her cheeks that Alice felt looked horrible on her. Her hair was tied into a tight bun at the base of her skull; pearl earrings in her ears that only emphasised the wizened age of the woman. Her dress was loose; deep lilac in its coloring and a white blouse ruffled from the bodice of her dress, the bottom of the dress lined in a white lace much the same as her blouse. Weather hands were hidden in gossamer gloves and she sat with her back straight, as though instead of a spine she had an iron rod holding her upright.

Her father was different. Alice found him rather small; mousy, in a way that contradicted the pot belly straining the buttons of the man’s rather faded violet vest. He had to match her mother, of course. A black tunic beneath the vest, and trousers to match the tunic—shoes to match the belt. Alice thought he looked funny, that his outfit was like something from a children’s coloring book… but, ah, it wasn’t her place to say. He looked stuffed, his hair too slick his cheeks too puffy to match the bony legs he had, his stomach protruding too much to match the thin arms he had with the limp and dragging sleeves of his tunic. Heavy rings laid upon his thin fingers but they slid off easily, which is what prompted the way he always sat tight-fisted. He was dressed to be a man he never was nor could be, her mother projecting her ideals onto someone that fit the placement as well as a square cut of marble into a round barrel.

Her father had no room in her mother’s world, if it weren’t for his money. Alice either—but a lunatic for a child never looked too well, and it had simply been easier to lock her away and shut her up; and if it had been legal, there was no doubt the woman would have stitched Alice’s mouth closed herself.

_A pretty face, turned mad when she opened her mouth_.

Her mother’s name was Loretta _Desjardins_ Liddell, and her father was Octavius Liddell. Alice loved her mother’s maiden name; _Desjardins_. It meant, if she knew her French well enough, _The gardens_ and she thought that was an entirely beautiful name, though her mother’s appearance and demeanor may not fit it—at the very least, her name had beauty her held by neither her body or soul.

But, _hush_ …, the young girl thought, the crowd was shifting from shouts to chats to whispers, and the lights were dimming, one bulb at a time. A covered hand on her knee reminded her to sit still, and her leg stopped its incessant jerking as her mother lifted her hand to place it in her own lap again, ever prim, ever proper. Alice found it hard to bite back the excitement-- _close_ , so close, the circus was beginning.

The whispers died out just like the lights did; and the audience sat in rapt excitement as a single, solitary shadow seemed to make its way onstage, seen only by the slight, evening light that filtered in through cracks in the tent. The whole room was none the less dark and impossible to see in, and Alice could only make out movement on stage, though she leaned forward in her seat—eyes wide, sparkling in this, in joy, in her exhilaration.

“Welcome.” The voice should have been booming to carry so well, but it felt more like the person on stage had whispered it beside her very ear, how loud it was in its quietness. The voice was low—the tone she couldn’t quite place, though she felt she could hear some amusement and thus mischief within it. The figure must be a boy, she thought, or, perchance, a woman who liked to speak in lower tones. But she doubted this—women that did so were mocked, and she could hardly fathom why one would open herself to insult on such a public stage. So she assumed man—and was proven right when a light shone on him (But where from, where in the world did the light come from? She saw no candles nor chandeliers, nor a torch to his name, and it was so inky black near the top of the tent she couldn’t see if anything of possible lightening abilities hung above him.

_Curious._

She couldn’t see him too well—the brim of his hat hid his face, though she rather admired that hat. She leant a little further still—he was dressed in rich hues; his hat a black satin with a deep red sash around it; a leather coat above a deep brown vest, form fitting trousers that near shined in the light above him, and a burgundy cravat that swelled from his chest and near wholly hid his neck. His face was hidden by the shadow of his hat’s brim and Alice could decipher little more on his appearance, save for the thick rings on the man’s fingers that so very much resembled the ones her father held, if not a touch more… colorful.

“Tonight is a night of grandeur,” The voice spoke again, and Alice gasped, a delighted grin on her features, “of mystery—of magic!” Oh, the voice lifted there, and two other lights lit up the man on stage, and now his face was more illuminated and she could swear he was looking right at her for a moment, before his gaze flickered to another end of the circus. He was handsome—a straight nose; a strong jaw, a slight cleft to his chin and lips that matched the red of his hat’s sash. His eyes shone, shifting coloring with whatever he may be looking at. _He had grey eyes_ , Alice realised, when she saw him shift from green to blue to back to green again and even, for a moment, they were hazel. There was a brilliance in grey eyes and it was simply that, their lack of color—how easily they picked up the color of anything reflected, what beauty could shine from them… and then, how stunning their silvery grey was when left to stare at nothing, a hidden chest of vibrance unseen when clouded by the colors of the world. 

“And to start…” That voice had lowered once more, and though he was facing away from her now she could see his arms moving and realised he seemed to be grabbing something, before he turned again and was facing her end of the circus, “I’ve some magic of my own to show you.” Oh—oh, she could have sworn she felt a breath against her but when she turned there wasn’t a person beside her, and no one close enough to have done so. How curious.

But the man on stage—oh, as she watched him, his hand opened and a ball of starflight flew from his palm, to trapeze through the air, leaving lines of flitting light behind it, fading from where his palm started and trailing along behind the glimmering white ball of light. She gasped again—‘Did you see that?’ spilling from her lips but finding no time to turn and ensure her mother was looking, so fixated on the ball—no, balls! _Two_ balls! Her smile widened and she leaned further in her seat; watching as a third joined the two balls emblazing the air. They swirled; they dipped and they danced in the stage above him, and they filled the room with such delight it was palpable. Children were squealing, women and men alike gasping in awe, and those gasps turned to yelps of excitement when the man waved a hand and the balls whirled into the ground.

Alice heard her mother scoff; the woman turned to her, her breath bitter, so close to Alice’s face she could smell the woman’s vanilla perfume,

“Magnets.” She spoke, condescending, and Alice just nodded—Agree with mother, it’s safer, -- before looking back to the whirring, dancing balls. They swooped and flitted between members of the audience; disappearing in coat sleeves and reappearing out the other, accompanied by the laughter of the crowd and the distinct laughter of the man on stage, his grin could be described as almost startlingly mad. They weaved—in, out, between powdered wigs and hiding in the hands of small children, if only to reappear in the laps of their mothers.

Alice watched in awe, and her eyes grew wide when the balls danced closer to her, and the ringmaster turned to her, smiling as one of the balls circled her. She could hear her mother’s scoff but cared little, watching and trying to grab the ball like a child would with snow but it was too fast, evading delicate hands snatching at it. It circled her, higher and higher—and she stood as it did, and this time, this time her fingers skimmed the light of the ball, tightening and curling around it, the light held tight in her fist—and suddenly she was _gone_.  
But… where?

The sounds and noises of the circus, the dimly lit room—gone, long lost, now. Wherever she was now was quieter; no noise to be heard save for a breeze and the whispers of trees, the faint noises of a pond.

\--Which, when she looked down, her arm dropping from its outstretched position (but still clutching that light, that light that she still held and felt almost afraid to let go of, not wanting to let such mystery and wonder just fly off,) she realised was exactly that. A pond, she was in a pond up to her ankles, brightly colored fish of blues and yellows swimming around white, laced up heels, her dress just high enough that it didn’t skim the water. She smiled, she supposed she should be afraid, but in such a world of vibrancy and sun she could feel nothing but a lull, nothing but contentment radiating from the light in her hand. 

And then—well, she wasn’t quite so alone anymore.

“Did you enjoy that?” Only a faint splash was her warning, and her face shifted from shock and back to delight when she realised quite who had appeared in front of her. She nodded—vigorously, as the man in the extravagant top hat appeared before her, the man that made that very same light that was near-throbbing in her hand stood in front of her, a dazzling smile set on his features, eyes as crystal-clear as the pond was, and if she looked close enough, she could almost see the reflection of one of the sun-kissed fish in his eyes.

“ _Magnets_.” He muttered—and Alice went wide-eyed, worried he was mad—but his smile was teasing, and he shook his head. No anger at her—just a mockery of what her mother said. “This is magnets. And this…” His head ducked low, enough that he was on her level, though she was grateful that he did so as it ensured his hat did not hide his handsome features—his face was close to hers, and his breath smelt of something like a sweetened tea… a fruit, a fruit she couldn’t place, and even the thickness of a biscuit—oh, chocolate? Was it chocolate? She couldn’t quite place it, and her face scrunched in confusion as she attempted to—but she didn’t really have much time to figure it out.

His face was close—closer, closer, and she felt the light pulsate, and her breath quickened before another pair of lips was atop hers. The breeze around her quickened; damp, green, thick leaves rustled in the wake of this and the fish slid lower beneath the water—water, soaking through her boots, water beneath her and a man in front of her; a hand on the small of her back, warmth, he was warm, his lips were dry and tasted something of salt but she felt herself melting into the kiss nonetheless, unexpected but not unwanted in such a euphoric land that clouded her judgement, her hand reaching up to touch his face—her lips moving against his own, free hand holding lightly to his cheek as he kissed her.

Moments passed and he pulled away, though she leaned into him—not wanting to end it, but he placed a hand between them, two fingers pressed lightly against her lips.

“...is _attraction_." He finished his earlier thought, and she smiled at the pun-- smiled wider at his own grin, how his eyes crinkled in that simple laughter. 

"Not yet,” Though now he spoke again, and she watched his mouth intently, before letting her gaze flick back to meet his eyes, “but later. Find me after and join us, Alice. …We’ve been waiting.” –Had she… had she yet said her name?

A final kiss, and his hand dropped so both arms were around her, but in this movement she simply _forgot_.

She forgot, and she let go of that light to hold him and in a rush that of wind and color and noise that made her dizzy she was suddenly back in the circus, the back of her dress being tugged on by her mother and she landed on her rump on the seat rather harshly, hissed words of _sit down and focus or it’s another visit to the doctor_ , that she was _nearly falling over the next seat_ , from her mother, but she couldn’t help the small smile still gracing her face.

She could have sworn she had seen the ringmaster smile, when that orb went back to his hand and up his sleeve like it never existed, could have sworn he threw a wink to her before he turned to face the cheering crowd, the final orb entering him through his mouth, and he made a great show of eating it.

And if you asked her mother, her mother could have sworn for that the barest flicker of a second Alice had entirely disappeared, and she could have sworn the girl's boots sloshed when she had forced her to sit down.


End file.
